


The Journey

by Analyn



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analyn/pseuds/Analyn
Summary: Katara is captured by the Fire Nation. She never could have imagined the bargain she'd make to save her life. Zutara.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

After only two weeks in Fire Nation custody, Katara was beginning to think she was going crazy. Two weeks since she was in Ba Sing Se, two weeks since she had been captured, two weeks since she had been separated from Aang, Sokka, and Toph. The cell was designed to subdue waterbenders. Humidity was sucked from the room as dry air was pumped in. She knelt on the floor of the metal cage, ankles locked in place. The manacles around her wrists were attached to chains that pulled her arms up and back. Once a day, she was unlocked to go to the bathroom, but then her urine was whisked away, least she weaponize it.

With so little movement, her muscles ached. Muscles she didn’t even know she possessed ached. Four guards constantly on duty watched her day and night. Sleep came fitfully and only in brief bursts, only when she was no longer able to stay awake. Water was brought to her in the smallest amounts, and by the time a small cup pressed to her lips, she was so desperately thirsty, her mouth and tongue so dry and parched, she gave no thought to bending. She drank the water like a dying woman. It was always too little, and she’d still be thirsty and forced to wait another four hours until the next, small dose.

Katara would have cried, from pain, anger, frustration, and most of all, the fear that she would die in custody without ever seeing her friends and family again. Only she couldn’t cry. Her body didn’t have enough water left. Her head constantly ached from her dehydration. If she’d hoped Aang, Sokka, and Toph would come to rescue her, that hope was gone now.

Head bowed down, the fight having left her, she did not look up at the sound of the prison door opening, nor did she catch hold of the softly muttered words between guards. The change of guards was routine, so she did not take note.

The whispered voices grew louder, and Katara finally looked towards the source of the argument taking place. She wished she hadn’t, for the face she looked at was the same, scarred face that haunted her nightmares. The same, scarred face that was curled in a familiar expression of anger and displeasure.

Zuko’s attention turned to her and her defiant eyes met his. Maybe she was broken, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her that way. “Leave us,” he snapped, louder this time.

“But, sir, orders—”

“—You have new orders,” Zuko interrupted, lips curling in displeasure.

“She’s a dangerous water bender.” The guard hesitated.

“I’ve fought her before and won. If you don’t want to loose a month’s pay and be knocked back down to corporal, get out.” Zuko’s most recent threat alleviated the guard’s indecision. With a sharp bow, he and the others left.

Zuko walked slowly towards her cage. He stopped a mere two feet in front of her. His eyes scanned up and down her body. His lips curled in distaste. Her skin was dry from dehydration, and already her loss of weight from inadequate nutrition was apparent. How long before she was skin and bones? How long until she died in this infernal place?

“What do you want?” she spat, no longer able to remain silent.

“You look different.” The non-sequitur perplexed her.

“Don’t look so surprised. It’s your fault I’m here.”

Zuko’s eyebrow raised. “I don’t remember capturing you.” His lips quirked in the smallest hint of a smirk, “Nor did I lock you up.” Strictly speaking, it was true. Azula was the one who’d captured her. The bastard was actually amused by her predicament.

“I . . . I trusted you. I thought you had changed. And you betrayed me.”

Her venomous assertion left the prince nonplused. He cocked his head to the side. “The cave,” he surmised, studying her expression for confirmation. She waited for the next cocky remark, the next taunt, the next insult, but none was forthcoming. Instead, his words surprised her. “I made a mistake.”

He was lying, she knew. She’d made the mistake of trusting him once, trusting that he had changed sides, or, at least, he was no longer actively fighting for the Fire Nation. But she had been wrong. He’d sided with Azula. Aang had died and would have remained dead if it was not for the spirit water and her healing abilities.

“Bastard,” she spat. Or, she would have spat at him had there been enough water left in her body for such an extravagance.

“Believe me. Or not.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Just get it over with. Whatever you’re here for,” Katara said. She was done with this conversation. She wanted him gone. The boredom was preferable to the humiliation his distraction provided.

“I want to make a deal with you.” Katara shook her head and blinked a couple of times.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m dehydrated and locked in a cage. There’s not a lot I could offer you. Not that I’d trust you, even if I did have something you want.”

Zuko smiled at her defiance. He continued on as if she had not spoken, “If you agree, you will come back to Caldera City with me. You will have water, within reason,” he added hastily, “not enough to attack. If you behave, I might even let you have a bath. I’ll give you food, clothing, and a bed to sleep in.” His smile was disconcerting for it only reached half of his face. The half covered by his scar remained unmoved.

“If you think I’ll betray Aang for comfort, you’re crazier than I thought,” Katara said. She might be helpless but her pride would not let her cower.

“I don’t want information on the Avatar. No.” His lip curled up into a sneer that made Katara shiver in the warm air. “I have a different use for you.”

The emphasis on use was Katara’s first clue. A clue she steadfastly ignored.

“I won’t lead you to Aang.”

“So the Avatar is alive,” he mused to himself. Unbidden, he touched the scar on his face. “I thought as much.” Whatever his thoughts were, he gave no indication of them as he stared at her with that knowing smirk. “Are you really that naive?” He shrugged then. “Think over what I’ve said. If you change your mind, ask for me.” He turned and began walking away from her. Her chains rattled to match her frustration. He paused just as he was about to exit the room. “But make your decision quickly. I won’t wait forever.”

He was gone, and the guards returned. They eyed her suspiciously. The brief conversation exhausted Katara’s already weakened body, and she no longer had the strength to keep her head upright. Her head bowed down under the strain of its own weight. She considered the floor. If he didn’t want information on Aang, and he didn’t want her to lead him to Aang, then what could he want?

Another week passed, another week in the hell that was her imprisonment. Each day that passed drew closer to the eclipse, closer to the day her friends would invade Caldera City. If Aang succeeded, they would come for her, she was sure. But would they even know where to find her? She didn’t even know where in the Fire Nation she was. She could be miles away from Caldera City and too far away to be rescued. Her limbs grew weaker, her brain fuzzier, and now, when she was released for her daily urination, she shook on atrophied legs. She could not go on in her confinement. That much was clear. If she did, she’d waste away. And then she wouldn’t be able to help Aang. Whatever Zuko wanted from her, it had to be better than this. Away from the dryness, free to move without shackles, she had a hope of escaping. There was no hope here.

Seven days after Zuko visited her, she asked for him. The guard did not seem surprised by her request, and only sneered at her. She had expected to be made to wait a couple more days in retaliation for the time it took her to decide. She was unprepared to see Zuko a mere six hours later. This time, he wore full armor, not his formal robes.

“I was beginning to think you’d turn me down,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “Have you decided to accept my offer?”

“You never told me what you offer was.” Katara lacked the strength to lift her head up. “You only told me what was in it for me.”

“So I did,” Zuko mused. “A week and you haven’t figured it out. And here I thought you’d spent all these months letting the Avatar warm your bed.” Katara’s eyes widened. He could not be serious. He paused for dramatic effect.

“You want me to be your whore?” She was incredulous but her voice just sounded dull after three weeks in the prison cell.

“Concubine,” Zuko clarified. His voice just then reminded Katara of the way he’d spoken to her when he’d tied her to a tree.

“I’d let you fuck me in exchange for food and water and a roof over my head. Sounds like a whore to me.”

“And all the pretty little dresses and trinkets you want. I am a prince of the Fire Nation.”

The creak of metal rung loudly as the door to the cell opened. Zuko placed his index finger under her chin and raised her face until their eyes met. Katara quickly looked down. “Do you accept?”

“You’re giving me no choice.” Already, she knew, if she ever wanted to leave the Fire Nation alive, she’d accept. Her body was already weak, well past the point of exhaustion. If something did not change, and soon, she would die. Her body would betray her and the Fire Nation would as good as killed her. She’d be no use to Aang once she was dead.

“You do have a choice, Katara.” That was the first time she had ever heard Zuko say her name, and she did not like the way it sounded in his dark and brooding tongue. “You can stay here and rot. Or you can warm my bed. Your choice.”

She raised her eyes to meet his. “I accept,” she said clearly.

At that, the guards freed her first from the manacles on her ankles then from the manacles around her wrists. She rubbed her wrists, wincing at the persistent bruising caused by the manacles. She stumbled forward, legs lacking the strength to stead her. Zuko caught her. She barely noticed his smoky scent as she was crushed against his warm body, too preoccupied with the ache in her limbs, in the betrayal of her body.

Zuko led her from the prison. Later, as she recovered, Katara would be humiliated by the ease with which she had leaned against him for support, mortified by the way he’d lifted her into the palanquin before settling next to her and drawing the curtains around them, scandalized by the way he’d pressed a flask of water to her lips. She downed the water, as much as she could. She did not stop to consider that the water would be poisoned, that Zuko was somehow playing her. All she knew was that the life sustaining substance was, finally, within her reach.

She whined as Zuko drew the canteen away from her. “That’s enough for now,” he mused. “If I give you any more, you’ll vomit.” He wasn’t wrong. As dehydrated as she was, drinking any more water would make her sick.

Katara had passed out by the time they arrived at the palace, and she did not awake as she was carried to her room. For the next six days, she was attended by servants and surgeons. The surgeons steadily gave her water, monitoring her body for changes. Servants dipped cloth in warm broth and held the meager ration to her lips, gradually acclimating her body to food. The only solid food she could stomach were small amounts of the fruits that grew plentifully in the Fire Nation. The servants also bathed her with warm cloths, wiping the grime and sweat from her body. She was dressed in a light, silk kimono in fire nation red. The bruises on her ankles, knees, and wrists, started to fade, and the ache in her muscles diminished.

On her sixth day in the palace, Katara finally felt like she was becoming herself again. She blinked first in confusion at the bustle of people in the room. One female servant held water to her lips upon waking, while the other was brushing her hair. “You’re awake. Prince Zuko will be pleased,” the servant giving her water said. “We were afraid you wouldn’t make it,” she continued speaking when Katara did not reply. “But the surgeons say you’ll be fine.”

“How long?” Katara’s voice was dry and cracked.

The servant did not reply. Instead, she hastily set the bowl of water back onto a nightstand and leapt to her feet. “Prince Zuko,” she said.

Katara looked at the prince. He was impeccably groomed and was staring only at her. “Leave us,” he demanded. The servants bowed and followed his instructions, the last one closing the door behind her as she left.

Katara swallowed hard. This was it. She’d promised him her body, and now she was awake, he’d come to claim her. He advanced towards her and sat on the side of the bed. A tentative hand brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and off of her face. “So you’ve finally rejoined the land of the living,” he mused, one hand cupping her cheek.

Katara’s instincts urged her to pull away from his touch but she forced herself to remain still. She’d agreed to this. She would have to follow through with her end of the bargain until she found a way to escape. The chance to escape, that alone would have to sustain her through the horrors that were to come.

“Is something wrong? Did the servants do something?” If it wasn’t the prince, her enemy, Katara would have thought him concerned. But that couldn’t be right. She was a prisoner, and his enemy, and he was only doing this to humiliate her further, to exert his dominion over her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

“Just get it over with,” she ground out.

Zuko seemed bewildered. As understanding crossed his features, he froze, staring down at her. “You’re weak,” he stated tonelessly. “You don’t need to stress yourself out. The surgeons tell me it will be another fortnight before you’re fully recovered.” The lack of all expression in his voice scared Katara more than his anger, more than his frustration. At least then she knew how he felt.

He abruptly quit the room without acknowledging her. Laying alone, Katara felt tears well in her eyes. She was supposed to be his whore, and apparently, she was failing even at that. Not that she wanted to have sex with Zuko. But his rejection stung all the same. She knew she wasn’t attractive, emaciated and halfway dead. She should be glad he didn’t want her now. Perhaps, if she could postpone long enough, her opportunity to escape would come before she had to lie with him. As she lay there thinking, she was aware of the softness of the bed, of the fluffiness of the pillows supporting her head, of the sheer exhaustion in her muscles. Soon, Katara drifted into the first peaceful sleep she’d had in weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t often that Zuko felt regret. He didn’t regret speaking out at that fateful war council meeting, even though he’d received the scar on his face and been banished for his insolence. Sending untrained but loyal Fire Nation soldiers to an unwitting slaughter had not sat well with him. Nor did he regret freeing the Avatar from General Zhao, even though he had nearly been killed in the process. He did not even regret assisting in the war the Fire Nation waged seeking to unite the world under one rule. All the suffering in the Earth Kingdom would end if they but surrendered to those more powerful than them, but the people of earth were as stubborn as the element they bent, and so war raged on as the deaths mounted.

But the Southern Water Tribe girl whose name he didn’t remember, had never bothered to learn, her fate he did regret.

Zuko had no delusions that the Avatar wasn’t innocent. He was little more than a boy, frozen in ice for years. But he was the Avatar. He stood between the Fire Nation and uniting all the nations together as one, and so he had to die. Not for anything he had done, but for the threat the Avatar posed. The threat the Avatar would become. Then there was the water bender girl, who stubbornly followed the Avatar around. She, too was innocent. Had the Southern Water Tribe not sheltered the Avatar, had she stayed in the South Pole when the Avatar left, he would have left her alone. She would be happy at that moment, not suffering in a Fire Nation prison specifically designed to hold water benders. He knew of the brutal conditions. By now, she would be starved and dehydrated. Keeping a water bender from water was the only way to ensure they wouldn’t escape. Oh, one water bender had escaped the Fire Nation’s captivity despite their brutally efficient prison facility, but that was many years ago, and a state secret. Few outside of the royal family even knew escape was possible, and those that did dared not speak for to speak would be to face death for treason against the Fire Nation.

But Katara, innocent though she was, choose to follow the Avatar, had intertwined her fate with his. Locked in the cave, she showed him a kindness he’d never before known from anyone except Uncle Iroh. Azula cared, in her own, demented way, but she had never shown him real kindness. His father was even worse. Father’s didn’t burn their children. Zuko understood that now. Yet despite the cruelty and abuse from his father, Zuko wanted nothing more than to restore his honor, at any cost. Katara’s kindness had been genuine, as she offered to try to heal his scar with the precious spirit water from the North Pole. He’d been flattered. Perhaps he hadn’t truly appreciated all the ways Uncle Iroh supported him during his exile, but Uncle Iroh was his blood, and an old man. Having a beautiful girl not much younger than him show him kindness was thrilling in a way he’d never experienced before.

Then Azula came. Briefly, he thought about joining the Avatar. He was not the same person who’d been exiled two years earlier after seeing and experiencing the ravages war took on the common people, the peasant farmers who daily struggled to survive. But embroiled as he still was in his quest to regain his honor, he sided with Azula. Azula always wins. Perhaps it was good he sided with her. Zuko did not doubt she would have killed him for being a traitor, then killed the Avatar.

The look in the girl’s eyes, the shock of betrayal, he could not get out of his mind. That look haunted his dreams. Azula may have been the one to capture her, but it was Zuko who had betrayed her trust, and that was far, far worse. The girl had never trusted Azula, but briefly, she’d trusted him. She was yet another casualty of war.

Perhaps Zuko could have hardened his heart to her plight had the Fire Nation lived up to his expectations, but it hadn’t. Azula told Fire Lord Ozai that he killed the Avatar. Azula always lied. And just like that, his honor was restored. Once again he was a prince of the Fire Nation, heir to all the opulence and comfort he desired. An entire nation bowed before him. But the Fire Nation was not the same place he remembered it to be. Or perhaps the Fire Nation was the same and it was him who had changed. He floated about his life in a daze, disconnected from the world around him. He was home, but he no longer felt like he was home.

He was unhappy, Zuko admitted to himself only when he indulged his darkest thoughts. He was miserable, and unhappy. He realized, for the first time, that his honor was something that he had, not an aspect of filial piety that his father could restore to him. And so he went to the prison specially designed to hold water benders.

His stomach rolled as he saw her. Only two weeks ago, she’d looked strong and healthy. She was thin now, and slumped forward in defeat. Her head hung low. He’d sent the guards away, not sure why but wanting a moment to speak to her alone. He felt pity for her, then admiration at fire in her eyes as she confronted him. She held her own, which could be no easy feat considering her deteriorating physical condition. All the water benders in Fire Nation died, most sooner rather than later. She would die sooner. She couldn’t escape from this prison, nor could Zuko facilitate her escape. Then an idea sprung to his mind, and he’d offered her a chance at life before he even really understood what he was asking of her. He didn’t know why he did it, only that he was driven by pity and regret. Two weaknesses he’d have to stamp out if he wished to survive in the Fire Nation.

He’d left then, feeling better. Zuko was certain she would never accept his offer. Would never degrade herself in that way. Surely the girl would prefer death to serving him, but it was the only alternative he could offer that the Fire Lord would approve of. Fire Lord Ozai changed his concubines as frequently as he changed his shoes. But at least as a concubine she would be clean and well fed.

One day, he might allow her to escape, to return to help the Avatar. It would not be such a bad thing if Fire Lord Ozai was defeated. Though such thoughts were treason, and went against Zuko’s deeply ingrained sense of filial duty, he was starting to believe, more and more, that his father’s death was necessary for the good of the world.

But such thoughts were fantasies, for she’d never accept. At least his conscious was wiped clean with the offer, for he’d offered her an out. He hoped it was enough to stop the regret that plagued him with increasing frequency.

And then, exactly a week later, he received the summons. He did not wait to ready the palanquin on the elephant rhinos. He learned her name right before he set off. Katara. A pretty name, as pretty as she had been while she was still healthy. He went, knowing she would reject his offer. He’d teased her, tormented her really, trying to remember who he once was, trying to burn the treasonous thoughts from his mind. It hadn’t worked. She accepted. Whore, she called herself. Concubine, he said. The distinction didn’t matter. She had accepted.

Zuko had never kept a concubine before. He was too young the last time he was in the Fire Nation. In his years searching for the Avatar, he hadn’t the time to bother with girls. He’d paid for a prostitute here and there, but it was always a different girl. He wasn’t quite sure what one was supposed to do with a concubine, other than the obvious. Did a prince keep a concubine in a fine suite of rooms in the palace and pamper her with gifts and jewels, or did he relegate her to the servant’s quarters and summon her when needed? And the prostitutes had always been eager, hoping, perhaps, that he’d take them away to a life of luxury only a prince could afford. If only the prostitutes knew how meager the quarters in a Fire Nation warship were, perhaps they’d not have been so eager. Katara was resigned, perhaps, but not eager.

After three weeks, Katara was on the brink of dying from dehydration, and each moment they spent on the palanquin carried by the elephant rhinos, each additional moment before she would have medical care, she hurtled step by step closer to death. She was so weak, so close to death. She was as much an object of sexual desire to him then as a snot-covered handkerchief discarded in a pile of ostrich-horse dung. 

Zuko delivered her to the care of the palace servants and surgeons, threatening them with imprisonment or execution if she died. He then made his way to the throne room. Whatever minor merchant was petitioning the Fire Lord fell silent. The whole room fell silent as the prince knelt before the dais where the Fire Lord sat ensconced in flames.

“I would make a request of you, my Lord,” he spoke carefully and respectfully. One wrong word and Katara would be back in prison, and him along with her.

“You brought the water bender into my palace.” The Fire Lord sounded displeased. He knew already.

“That is why I am here,” he admitted. “And why I have come to make a request. If my Lord would allow, I should like to take the water tribe peasant as my concubine.”

The Fire Lord laughed then. The sound was low and unpleasant, tinged with the cruelty that suffused his entire being.

“If its a concubine you want, my son, there are prettier girls than her. Fire Nation girls from good families. Not peasants.”

This was where all would go to hell if he choked. “Respectfully, my Lord, none of the prettier girls kept company with the Avatar. This is a kind of revenge, for how she teased and circumvented me for so long.”

Revenge was a dark emotion, one Fire Lord Ozai understood. He laughed again. “As you will, my son. As you will.” Zuko knelt still, waiting to be dismissed. “Put her in her place if you must, and see that you are not too gentle with her.”

Zuko nodded, unable to speak, unable to come up with a reply that would not offend his father. Zuko resisted the urge to vomit.

“Once you’ve trained her, I might try her out myself.”

Zuko’s face must have revealed his horror at the thought, for Ozai said, “Not to worry, son. I’ve no interest in her now. Keep the girl, if you must, but don’t forget she kept company with the Avatar.”

Soon after he was dismissed, Zuko bowed and hurried away. His father was revolting sometimes, and Zuko wondered how he could love a man that was capable of such cruelty.

Zuko was glad for the time he was given while she recovered. He visited her once. He was mildly offended that she thought he would importune her while she was still recovering. But, after his betrayal and his subsequent offer, he could not blame her for thinking the worst of him. He would, in her position. After that visit, he had the servants and surgeons attenting her report on her progress. Once she was healed, he could not wait longer. The Fire Lord would be curious if he did not bed his new concubine. A curious Fire Lord prying into Zuko’s affairs did not bode well.

He doubted he could invite her to his chambers for a conversation either. The servants talked. The rustled bedclothes, the sweat soaked sheets, the musky aroma, the fine strands of black hair on his pillow. All the little details would be too complicated to fake for long, not without arousing suspicion. If his father thought he’d rescued the water tribe girl out of some misguided sense of compassion, Fire Lord Ozai would likely kill the girl in front of Zuko to teach him a lesson. He’d never cared much if the innocent died at his orders. Maybe he’d have Azula do it instead. Azula loved taking away his toys.

Once the head surgeon said she was fully recovered, he summoned her to his chambers. He waited until the early evening to summon her when there were many around who would see her entrance. He hoped she would not struggle against him. He knew he would be incapable of forcing himself on an unwilling woman. He hoped she would submit, for he dared not hope that she would be an eager participant in the most intimate of acts. He was her enemy, but he had also saved her life, and she knew it. She knew it now as surely as she knew it then when she accepted. She had no choice, she’d said, and she was right. It was this, or death. She’d chosen life.


	3. Chapter 3

It took over a month for Katara to regain her strength. In that time, she was attended daily by the surgeons, who first oversaw her food and drink, and then began to work on rebuilding her strength. It took almost a week before she was able to walk on her own, and two weeks until she could make it to the door to her room and back to the bed without having to rely on one of the servants for support.

Life in the palace wasn’t so bad. The servants brought her three meals each day, and snacks when she asked for them. The air was hot, as it always was in the Fire Nation, but she was now given as much water to drink as she wished, though it was only brought to her in small quantities. Each day the servants bathed her with wet cloths, removing the sweat from her body. It seemed an entire wardrobe had been ordered for her, because she now recognized the six distinct dresses added to her wardrobe. These six dresses now doubled the total amount of dresses she owned. Not that Katara owned the dresses, she thought bitterly. They were only on loan to her. And of her own dresses, she had none left. All but the dress she was wearing when she was captured was left behind in Ba Sing Sei. The servants must have removed her dress, dirtied from wearing it for so long, but it had never been returned. It was a humiliating realization, to admit she did not even own her own clothes.

Katara became accustomed to her new life with shocking ease. It became simple to make conversation with the servants as they attended to her every need, to eat the food provided to her without questioning whether it was poisoned, to luxuriate in the silk sheets and daily sponge baths.

Thankfully, Zuko hadn’t visited her at all since that first day of wakefulness. But his absence wouldn’t last forever. He would eventually come for her. She knew from Zuko’s obsession with capturing Aang that he was determined. When he wanted something, he let nothing get between him and his goal. Only her weakness was keeping him away. It was the undesirability of her emaciated body that kept him away. But with a steady diet, her curves filled out again, her breasts swelling and growing beyond the size she remembered from before she was captured. Her eyes regained their luster and her hair resumed growing.

One night, she’d screamed as she awoke in a pool of her own blood. Confused, she’d yelled, and hunched over in pain. Her arms hugged her abdomen. She’d cried as the servants attended her. Poison. It must have been in her dinner, and damn her complacency for allowing herself to eat all the food brought to her without question.

Only it wasn’t poison. She knew from Gran Gran that she would soon get her moon time, and that it was a time to rejoice, because it meant her body was healthy and fertile. She just hadn’t expected her lower back and abdomen to ache so much. In the South Pole where food was scarce, women would loose their moon times from the malnutrition. So she should be glad she was bleeding, because it meant she was healthy. It also terrified her. If she was strong enough to start her first moon time, then she would be strong enough for Price Zuko to take her to his bed, and that thought terrified her. She wished, now that she’d put more effort into furthering the burgeoning relationship with Aang. At least then she’d have more experience than an handful of kisses with Jet and Aang.

The servants changed the sheets and nightdress and brought her wads of cloth to catch the bleeding and tea to soothe the cramps in her abdomen and the pain in her lower back. There were advantages to being in the palace, Katara thought mildly. Had she been with Aang and Sokka the first time this happened, they would have freaked out and fled from her, and she knew better than to expect any sympathy from Toph.

Six weeks after being brought to the palace, she had the strength to walk to the end of the corridor and back. She could eat her own food and dress herself without assistance. As she got ready for bed one night, all the servants save one left. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

Gretta smiled at her. “Prince Zuko desires to see you tonight.” Katara blushed at the insinuation. So the servants knew what she was. Of course they did. She was a water tribe peasant, a prisoner. Of course they knew she was a whore. Her servant decorated her face with face paint, and by the time she was done, Katara barely recognized the girl who stared back at her in the mirror, for she looked at least two years older.

“Drink this,” Gretta said, pushing a cup of tea in Katara’s direction. She ignored it. The butterflies in her stomach fluttering too wildly for her to eat or drink.

“Drink this,” Gretta urged again.

“I’m not thirsty,” Katara said truthfully.

“It’s not for thirst,” Gretta said, slightly amused. “It will prevent you from falling with child.”

Katara distantly heard the sickening sound of porcelain on tile and jumped away as the scalding liquid hit her legs. Any hope Katara had that the servants did not know her new position was dashed just as surely as porcelain at her feet. Gretta sent for another dose and cleaned the shards and spilled tea. Katara drank the second tea without incident. She did not know there were teas for such things, the concept of preventing the conception of children foreign in the South Pole, but she was glad she would not have to bear Zuko’s child.

Katara followed Gretta to Zuko’s room. She wrapped her dressing robe tightly about her, for it was early enough that there were still plenty of nobles and servants in the halls. They stared at her, and she caught the beginnings of whispers start once they thought she could no longer hear. Her shame was to be public, then, not that she expected anything less. Her belly fluttered, whether in anticipation or dread she did not know. She was led to a pair of double doors. The guards stationed outside looked up and down her body. She held her head high and ignored the lustful scrutiny they subjected her to before allowing her in. Zuko stood by the window of his room looking out.

She should be offended that he thought so little of his enemy’s prowess he did not even turn to look at her as she entered. “The surgeons inform me that you are well now.”

“I am, my Lord.” Silence fell. She felt she should speak, but she hardly knew what to say. Nothing Gran Gran told her could prepare herself for this. What was a girl supposed to say to the man who was going to take her virginity? What was she supposed to say when that the man was her enemy? And when she’d agreed to this in exchange for food and clothing and the comforts of life? Nothing in the South Pole had ever prepared her for this.

“Come here.” Although his words were spoken as a demand, the awkwardness behind them was palpable. The self confidence he displayed in the prison was gone now. The rugs were soft under her bare feet, and she stopped once she was next to him, looking out the window. She could barely see over the edge of the caldera into the darkness of the ocean below, too far away for her to bend. “Did you drink your tea?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” His voice was a low rumble. It held a surprising amount of softness. The anger she associated him had vanished. He was her enemy . . . but no, she could no longer think of him like that. He’d made her an offer, and she’d accepted. She was a kept woman now, and he her benevolent benefactor.

He did not attempt to converse with her, did not attempt to kiss or lull her into a sense of security. She was glad for that. Glad that there would be less time for her already heightened nerves to build. Glad for his forthrightness.

His fingers fumbled at the knot of the belt that secured her robe closed. Her hands hung limply at her sides. Her eyes fluttered closed. If she pretended he was Aang, it might not be so bad. He pushed the robe from her shoulders. It fell to the floor, a silken pool forming around her feet. Instinctively, she crossed her arms in an attempt to shield her breasts.

The candles illuminating the room flared as her body was exposed. Zuko’s callused hands tugged at her wrists as he replaced them by her sides. “Do not hide yourself from me,” he said. Katara opened her eyes and saw the displeasure writ across his face. “You agreed to this, Katara.” She choose a spot on the wall behind his shoulder to stare at as he appraised her body. Imperceptible trembles ran from her chin to her toes, but she fought the sensations.

Zuko brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. His finger tips rang down along her face in a soft, barely there, touch. When he reached her chin, he tilted her face towards his. She gasped at the dangerous expression hidden behind his golden orbs. Vaguely, she recalled the way her dad would look at her mom when he though the children were not looking. At the time, she was six and hadn’t recognized the look. She now understood that particular intensity to be lust, and she couldn’t help but shiver and wonder what he was thinking.

“You are beautiful.”

“Hmm,” Katara responded. His hand brushed down her neck, then the pad of his index finger drew down until it was settled between the swell of her breasts. His thumb brushed across her left nipple, causing her to step back and flinch.

He frowned in disapproval at her reaction. He continued to run his hands up and down her body. The light trail of his fingers burned against her skin, igniting an inferno in her belly she’d never felt before. She inhaled sharply and stepped back. Each time she moved from him, he followed, maintaining the distance between them. Up close, Zuko smelled of sweat and musk and smoke. His hands played over her chest, running down her sides and belly, and stopping at her hips. His hands didn’t drift lower, and Katara was thankful.

She hadn’t realized they’d come so far the first time his hand drifted to the top of the curls hiding her most intimate areas. She jumped back, knees coming into contact with the bed. “Am I the first person to see you like this?” he asked.

She shook her head no. “Oh?” he seemed amused. “Another man has seen your body like this?” Not in the way he meant, but Aang had accidentally seen her bathing once.

“No,” she said.

He smirked. “So I am the first.” Tilting her chin to look up at him, he stepped into her personal space until his fully clothed body was flush with her naked one. “You are exquisite.” He hesitated then. “May I kiss you?” He sounded so uncertain and awkward. Katara wondered for the first time if he was just as confused by this as she was. She knew this was coming. She’d agreed to be his concubine, knowing he would expect more than kisses from her. Even with the scar on his face, he was not unattractive.

Before she had time to think, she leaned forward and kissed him. At first, it was a soft brush. He groaned as she pulled back. But her kiss gave him the confidence he needed to continue. Zuko tilted her chin up and kissed her again. His kiss was more intense, so unlike the kisses she’d shared with Jet and Aang. Those had been pleasant enough, but they hadn’t left Katara burning as she was now. Now she was beginning to understand why such language was used to describe intimate acts. She felt like she was burning up at his kiss. She pressed herself against his body, opened her mouth to his probing tongue, anything to be closer to him, closer to this strange pleasure that was rapidly overwhelming her. Somehow, she didn’t know when, Zuko lost his clothing as well. His skin was so warm to the touch. She tentatively explored the smattering of hair on his chest, the roughness of the stubble at his chin.

Zuko was attentive to her comfort, surprisingly so, and while he took a certain delight in causing her to blush, Katara felt herself becoming comfortable around him. Oh, she was embarrassed, but she felt a yearning deep inside her core. What started out as a bargain made for her survival, a task that must be endured in exchange for her survival, became real and enjoyable. She wanted this. Wanted him. Her desire burned within her as she came.

Then it was time. Her pleasure given, it was time for his. She expected pain. She’d heard enough giggling girls from the Southern Water Tribe recount their first times to expect some pain, but there was none. A slight discomfort at most, but Zuko carefully watched her eyes for her reaction, and distracted her with kisses when she’d started to become distressed. She came as he did, biting down on his neck at the wave after wave of pleasure pulsing through her body, which only seemed to intensify his.

Their bodies were slick with sweat by the time Zuko rolled off of her. Katara closed her eyes at the listless haze that came over her. She enjoyed the warmth of the bed and the softness of the mattress, waiting for Zuko to kick her from the room. She did not have to wait long. He watched her attentively as she dressed herself, seemingly unconcerned with his own nudity. Katara blushed at the scrutiny even though there was no longer a portion of her body he hadn’t seen or touched. As she walked back to her room, there was no mistaking where she had come from or what she’d been doing.


	4. Chapter 4

Zuko awoke to Agni’s rays cresting over the horizon as he had every morning since he was born. The warmth, the energy, grew within him as he took energy from the sun. A jasmine scent suffused his pillows. He groaned as he sat up in bed. He was playing a dangerous game, he knew.He had somehow managed to fumble through the night with Katara, and she had not seemed dissatisfied.

Azula was already at the bending arena when he arrived for his morning bending practice. White lightning crackled around her. In the stands, her honor guard comprised of Mai, Ty Lee, and the noble ladies who felt the need to follow her around, watched her bend. Jealousy once more flooded through Zuko as he watched his little sister bend. He couldn’t summon lightning, and he’d tried. But it was Azula who’d succeeded. Azula was the child his father wanted. If the Fire Lord could, he’d name Azula his heir. But even the Fire Lord couldn’t turn against centuries of law and tradition preferring sons to daughters for inheritances, not without unnerving the nobles and risking destabilizing the nation. Zuko’s position was precarious at best.

He fought down the jealousy as he started with his warm up, moving in a slow, fluid movement to warm his muscles before he would move onto the sharp and swift fire bending moves.

Zuko pulled back his fist, preparing to send his first punch of fire at the dummy in front of him.

“I hear you enjoyed my present last night,” Azula said from behind him. Startled, the fire soared over the dummy, hitting the ground just shy of the stands where the spectators were. Zuko distantly heard the shrieks of people trying to escape the fire.

“What to you mean?” Zuko demanded, turning to face Azula.

“Your toy. The water bending peasant.” She meant Katara then.

“She’s not a toy,” Zuko said automatically. He shut his mouth after, immediately regretting his slip. Only Azula could bait him so.

Azula rolled her eyes. “Your concubine. Whatever you want to call her. Aren’t you going to thank me?”

Zuko clenched his fists at his sides. “I’m the one who got her out of the prison and had her nursed back to health. Not you.”

Azula was playing a game with him, but Zuko didn’t know what. Azula was always up to something.

Azula shrugged. “And I’m the one who captured her in the first place. You’re welcome.”

Zuko refused to allow Azula to poison his interactions with Katara. Everything else in his life that Azula touched crumbled to dust, but not this.

It seemed Azula no longer cared what Zuko said, for she continued without waiting for him to respond, “Men. You’re all weak.”

Zuko returned to bending practice, refusing to think more about what Azula had said. He would not allow her to manipulate him. He was tired and sweaty by the time he finished. By now, the servants would have cleaned his room and changed his sheets just as they did every morning while he practiced his bending. Mai intercepted him before he was able to return to his room to clean up.

“I noticed your bending has improved.” Mai gave nothing away in her expression. Since she’d kissed him on the ship home, they’d had very little interaction. Zuko was uncertain whether she was interested in him or not.

“I’ve had three years to practice.” His tone was sharper than he intended.

“Geez. There’s no need to get mad at me. I was just trying to talk.”

Zuko inwardly cursed himself. He knew Mai didn’t show much emotion. “I’m sorry.” He rubbed his arm. “Look, do you want to get out of here?” Zuko wasn’t sure why he asked her that. Only Mai seemed to be the only person who was interested in him. At least, she had been interested when she’d kissed him on the boat home. His uncle had ignored him the few times he’d gone to see him in the prison, Azula only taunted him, and Katara. He couldn’t think about her. He just needed someone to connect to.

“Whatever.”

“I’ll pick you up after I clean up.” Mai shrugged like she wasn’t concerned. Zuko wasn’t sure why her indifference bothered him.

True to his word, once he had bathed and dressed in his armor, he picked Mai up. He could breath again once they felt the palace. Mai followed him as he climbed up a mountain. The spot he chose was a clearing in the volcanic rock, hidden from Caldera city below and looking out towards the ocean. The servants had already brought the blanket and picnic basket and arranged everything on the ground.

He and Mai talked a little, but mostly, they were silent. Eventually, Mai scooted towards him. When he did not pull away, she leaned her head against his chest, looking out towards the sun and the ocean below. Uncertain what her reception would be, he tentatively wrapped his arm around her waist. She didn’t squirm or say anything to him. Zuko relaxed.

“So I guess I’m your girlfriend now,” Mai said suddenly.

Zuko startled. He wasn’t sure what they were. “Really?” he asked, then inwardly cursed at how stupid that had sounded.

“Geez. If you don’t want me to be.”

“It’s not that.” He sighed. He wasn’t sure what he wanted. “I guess you’re my girlfriend,” he admitted. They kissed, a chase sort of kiss, nothing like the passionate kisses he’d shared with Katara the previous night. But it was comforting. Simple. He liked that. Briefly, the anger that he couldn’t shake receded and he could think again.

“I won’t give up my concubine.” He didn’t know why he said that. Only, the image of Katara had flashed briefly in his head. He’d taken responsibility for her now. His honor demanded he protect her. He couldn’t abandon her to the prison. It sounded wrong, calling her a concubine instead of using her name, like she was a thing and not a person. But he had an act to play, and though he trusted Mai to an extent, there were still some things not even she could know. She spent too much time with Azula to risk his secrets with her.

“I figured.” Zuko hadn’t paid attention to whether or not Mai had been in the throne room when he made his request of the Fire Lord, but word would have spread quickly.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Zuko would be jealous if Mai was sleeping with someone else. He knew that made him a hypocrite, but he didn’t care.

Mai shrugged. “Why should it?”

“Because I’m sleeping with a woman who isn’t you.” He hadn’t expected to hurt Mai with that statement. And she wasn’t hurt at all. She was indifferent. She may be Fire Nation, but some times, Zuko wondered if there was not a bit of water in her too. She could be so icy at times.

“It’s not like you’re going to marry her or anything.” He wasn’t. But Mai’s voice so so cold, so bland, he wished she would react with some emotion. He wanted her to get mad. Wanted her to tell him to stop seeing Katara. He wouldn’t, couldn’t. It felt wrong, dating Mai while sleeping around with Katara. It felt like he acted without honor, but he had no choice. He liked Mai. Perhaps he could love her. But he was honor bound to protect Katara. If Mai would only get mad at him, perhaps he would feel better about himself.

But she was Mai. Mai didn’t get mad at stuff like that. She was a wealthy only child. She’d practically been groomed to marry into the royal family by her parents. It was no secret that Ozai, Azulon, and Sozin before him all kept a harem of concubines. He wanted to be different from his ancestors, to do what was right, for he was starting to see that the war they waged wasn’t right. It was throwing the world into chaos. He didn’t want to be like them. Yet he was. Mai had easily accepted that just like his father and grandfather, Zuko would take concubines. He would sleep with other women. If he wasn’t a member of the royal family, that type of behavior would not be tolerated. But he was powerful by birth. So Mai had calmly accepted Katara’s existence.

She kissed him again, because Mai wanted to. Because Mai wanted to put a halt to the conversation. Either way, Zuko felt calm as they kissed. She cuddled against him. This felt right. When the entire world revolved around the two of them, he felt calm. Not happy. But calm.

The calmness didn’t last long. Mai had made some comment about the sun, but he’d been too distracted with his thoughts to pay attention to what she’d said. Then Azula had appeared. Mai was his girlfriend, but one word from Azula and Mai left despite his protests. Damn Azula. She always got what she wanted.

She knew about his trip to the prison. She even hinted that the Avatar was alive, but that was impossible. The Avatar had been hit by lightning. There was no way he could have survived. Briefly, he thought about the small vial of spirit water dangling from Katara’s hand in the cave under Ba Sing Sei. He shook his head to get that memory out of his head. It was impossible. Katara wouldn’t have had time to heal the Avatar. She’d been captured right after. No. The Avatar was dead. The Fire Lord had welcomed Zuko back. He wasn’t fool enough to think he’d keep his father’s approval forever. For the truth was, Fire Lord Ozai had always preferred Azula, but at the moment, the Fire Lord wanted him around. Zuko had resigned himself to accepting the small scraps of affection his father gave him.

Azula left him then, alone with the barely touched picnic.


End file.
